With Flowers in Her Hair
by Sahara Storm
Summary: [Oneshot, AsuKure] You can judge a man by his scars. You can judge a woman by what she makes of them. ("You're really beautiful. In every way that matters.")


**Title:** With Flowers in Her Hair

**Fandom:** Naruto

**Pairing:** Asuma/Kurenai

**Rating: **PG-13.

**Word Count:** 583

**Summary/Description:** You can judge a man by his scars. You can judge a woman by what she makes of them.

**Warning/Spoilers: **Very vague spoilers for the Asuma arc, nothing substantial. It's a little sexy, but nothing big.

**A/N:** I have discovered that I really like writing Asuma and Kurenai, and have resolved myself to write them porn.

**Thanks to: **Rachel, for helping out with little details, like quotes. ;D

**Dedication:** For Essyllus! C: Happy birthday dearheart; I hope you had the awesomest day imaginable. :) AND HAY, I was writing this while talking to you last night. I felt like such a sneaky bastard HAHAHAHA. ;3

**Disclaimer:** Naruto owns me. :(

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_Those flowers are so small, so terribly small, that you can't see them, even when they're right in front for you. _

* * *

She traces a finger down the scar that haphazardly cuts his torso in two. It is deep and ugly, and it fascinates her.

"That tickles," he says gruffly, and snatches her hand away, placing a kiss on her palm. Smoke washes lightly over her skin, and she wriggles away from him playfully, twisting up the bed sheets.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke in bed?" she reprimands, eyeing the cigarette between the fingers of his other hand. It is hovering over an ashtray on the bedside table, but she stills regards it reproachfully.

"A lot more times before I'll actually listen," he offers with a clean white grin, and gets an elbow to his stomach for his trouble. He manages to crush the cigarette into the tray before she climbs atop him, hair in a wild disarray about her shoulders, lips cut into a smirk, eyes glowing with mischievousness. _You're all mine_, that look says, and he's only too glad to submit. Her kiss is slow, hard, and reciprocated in full.

She pulls away first, but her fingers trace nonsense on his chest with slow swipes of her smooth fingers, and it feels ridiculously good.

"We should probably start getting ready for the mission," he reminds her.

"Mmm, yeah," she gives distractedly. "I've been meaning to ask you; where'd you get this?" She taps a line down the jagged scar.

He sighs, and doesn't answer right away. He takes a moment to slide another cigarette from behind his ear, and place it between his lips.

"Mission. A long time ago."

She knows of the era of his life that was 'a long time ago', a chapter that he does not often revisit; she does not ask for further explanation. He glances at her, cigarette still unlit.

"Does it bother you?"

She gives him a sceptical look.

"No, of course not." Her voice turns husky, and she tilts her head, still drawing a line down the path of rough skin. It runs in a diagonal direction from his sternum to his waist. Kurenai doesn't know much more than the basics about weaponry, but she can guess how he got it. "It's interesting. It has character. It's almost… you."

He blinks at her a little, then shrugs noncommittally, reaching for his lighter.

"Hurt like hell when I got it," he says, as if that is all there is to it.

"Of course it did!" she says a little sharply, grabbing the lighter away. Her hand rests above his heart, and softens her words. "Or else it wouldn't mean as much as it does, would it?"

Asuma stares at her, and involuntarily, remembers Chiriku, remembers a battle. Vividly recalls pushing his friend to the side as the kodachi swung down.

Asuma stares at Kurenai, and not for the last time, counts himself among the lucky.

There are flowers in a vase on the bedside table. He selects two of them carefully, and tucks them in her dark tresses, right behind her ear.

"You're really beautiful," he whispers, voice thick and gruff. He looks thoughtful. "In every way that matters. I… don't know what to make of it."

She loves the way they always understand each other. She smiles, and lays a kiss to his chest. The flowers in her hair brush his skin.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't ask what's up with me and titles and proverbs and abstractness.

Hope you liked, Mandy. :3

Comments appreciated.


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